Ping Pong Phantom
by LittleBunny980
Summary: Christine has one hell of a back-story. As does Erik. There's a difference though; Christine is still living hers, whilst Erik now lives richly and comfortably. Still, despite that difference, they have two things in common: music and ping pong. When they meet, nothing will ever be the same. WARNING: Contains abuse, drug-abuse (mention only) and possibly other stuff. R/R!
1. Chapter 1

***~(^-^)~* A/N: I don't even know what this is. I just don't know. I think it came from one night of me playing ping pong with my brothers and deciding to write it at midnight O.O I apologise for the existence of this. But, I've started now, I don't think I can stop for a while… *~(^-^)~***

_Notice: They do have the gift of music in this, and he does become her angel. It just so happens that they also love ping pong and rule at it. Don't worry, they both still have flaws. They just excel at music and ping pong._

Chapter 1

Erik had been at the club all night, having a small drink - careful to not get drunk (unlike his mates) - and playing ping pong.

Why? Because Erik was the master of ping pong! He'd never been beaten; he always played a game of first to 11 points, one win one point, and neither enemies nor friends could win against him. Or lose with a score over 3. It was rather insulting, really, but everyone was so dedicated to beating him that they couldn't stop playing him.

That wasn't the only strangeness about him; his appearance wasn't the most average of things. He had a stark white mask over half of his face, minus the chin and lips, and his hair was long and coloured a contrasting black. The side of his features he showed to the world was relatively attractive; although he held no interest for looking what people called 'attractive'. He just wished to take care of himself enough so he wouldn't be a monster, or noticeable, even.

The mask and his skills didn't help much there. Instead of what he wanted, ladies swooned as he walked by, labelling him as 'mysterious' and 'dark,' which is apparently a good thing to them. Even after trying to be rude to get attention off his back, he was called a 'rebel'. It was a shame, really, as he had eyes for no girl - at least for now.

Erik finished beating, nay, destroying his current opponent 11-2 with ease (they simply couldn't handle it when he speeded up) and, after collecting the bet, he cockily shouted out to the bar, "Next challenger?" Another man stepped forward.

Antonio, Erik recognised. The man was good, but he had a weakness for travelling from side to side. If Erik could angle his shots, it would be simple enough to defeat him.

And it was. Antonio went down without too much damage, until the last point. This time, when Erik hit the ball to the opposite side of the table, Antonio managed to slam it back, and it hit the edge before whizzing into the background. Erik was skilled, but he was not a God. It was now Antonio's turn to serve. Erik frowned at this; Antonio was known as a Maths genius through the town – as everyone was known for something – and he might be able to calculate the necessary angles to hit it onto an edge, now that he realised Erik's weakness for edges, which would make Erik lose the point. Quickly, he calmed himself. Even if he did, he could only serve for two turns, and then Erik would win the game. It was unlikely that he could; Antonio wasn't a mastermind, he didn't have much time for calculations. He probably didn't even think of doing that. And he's drunk.

Erik smiled to himself as the ball came towards him, right in the centre line of the table. He gave it a light smack, and the exhausted Antonio didn't even bother going after it.

"Anyone else?" He called before Antonio had even paid or walked away. There were probably no more challengers for tonight; at some point, everyone seemed to realise it was a loosing fight. For the night, at least.

No one stepped forward, as they knew their money would be swiped. He looked around disappointedly, until he noticed a hooded figure coming out of the shadows. They were wearing a plain black hoodie and old-seeming jeans, and though the hoodie only seemed to be damp from the outside rain, the jeans looked destroyed; tattered and torn as though she had been wearing them for years.

"Ah, do I have a bet?" He said smiling, ignoring her strange clothes. After all, who was he to judge?

He couldn't yet tell if it was a boy or girl – most of his challengers were boys, as the woman generally hung out somewhere other than the bar - and it was clear when they spoke that they were making their voice perfectly unrecognisable. The clothing they wore simply hung off of them, like a skeleton, so there was no way to see the shape of the body. They held absolutely no signs towards a gender.

"All you have won today. Usual bet you make; if I win, I get all, if you win, you get all." They said in a monotone.

Erik scoffed at the confidence they exuded and agreed.

"Put down the £86 on the table so I know you're not bluffing." He said. The stranger reached in their pocket and pulled out some money.

"I seem to be a few pounds short." They said, not seeming to care. Erik waved it off (money was money) and offered them the supplied bat. They ignored it and pulled out their own bat. Nice and simple; black with a single white stripe in the middle. It looked well worn and yet new at the same time. Shrugging, he placed the other paddle onto a nearby table.

They began to play. Both players fought with a passion, but it wasn't long before they were at match point, with Erik one point ahead. If he won the next play, he won the game.

He hit.

They hit back.

It hit the edge of the table.

Erik had to stretch a lot, but he got it, using his non-paddle hand to lean on the table as he slumped on the desk in victory. _They_ didn't bother to get it.

"Ha!" Erik grinned. "A pleasure to play you. Someone finally worthy; but not good enough." The people in the pub cheered.

"Actually, the game isn't over. I got that point." There was a deadly silence.

"What?"

"If a player uses their non-paddle hand to touch the table then he or she forfeits the point."

Erik looked down at his hand that was touching the table. Damn it, he/she was right… He couldn't deny it, he had used the rule himself many times to gain others points.

20 minutes later found the positions reversed. For so long now, the seemingly equally-abled players got to match point, then became one down, before swapping positions again. Currently, the mysterious person was up one point, and one away from winning. Everyone waited for Erik to go up by two points, and then for he/she to do the same, but this time, they won.

Silence fell, the only audible noise being the slight patter of the ping pong ball as it bounced away.

Erik gaped, trying and failing to lift his chin, whilst others simply stared in shock. Finally, he put his paddle down and waited for gloating. He could only guess how the others would rub it in his face… The great Erik defeated by some teenager (he guessed. They were about tall enough to be a teenager). But it never came. Instead, the hooded figure picked up the bet money and calmly left, whilst everyone else stayed quiet in shock.

"Hey, Erik, it's late… We should probably head back." Came the voice of Erik's brother, Raoul, breaking the silence. He sounded unsure; no one was ready to see someone beat Erik, and although they had known it was going to come eventually, they had expected it to be a result of time weakening him.

Erik sighed, and followed him out.

As the car drove off, he could have sworn he saw the same hooded figure that had won against him lying on the pathway, looking more defeated than he felt.

But that was impossible.

They had won.

And they had a home.

…Right?

***~(^-^)~* A/N: There it is :P I hope you like, maybe you could review/follow/favourite? No pressure, I just have a lot of stories that I never upload, and if no one likes this I can just make it one of those (that sounds bitchy, but I mean it in a nice way)… I might not upload **_**really **_**frequently, but I've been wanting to upload this for a while, so I think I'll do okay. See ya! *~(^-^)~***


	2. Chapter 2

***~(^-^)~* A/N: Hai~! Two things: One, do you want me to actually **_**do **_**Authors Notes, or would you prefer without? Or only top or bottom or what? Two, special shout out to AriDaughterOfZeus for following ^-^ Thank you! Now, onwards! *~(^-^)~***

Chapter 2: Two weeks

Two weeks had passed, and Erik could just feel himself getting angrier. Thanks to that mysterious girl, rumours had spread all across the town, almost every single one about him being defeated at his own game. It was like putting William Shakespeare as number two on a playwright list, in his opinion. No one had ever defeated him before, and he hated this feeling!

More people were challenging him. Teenagers with arrogant grins and smug eyes would come, acting as if they had invented the game, and attempt to beat him. It never worked. He made sure of this; he would not be taken as a fool again.

Nevertheless, the damage had already been done, and Erik could feel the respect everyone had slipping away as newcomers invaded the bar and laughed at him. Sure, he had been earning more money through stupid children's and even adults bets, but he was rich anyway, and he could do without the suggestions of using it for ping pong lessons. He needed no lessons. He was the master; he'd never been defeated!

Except that damn mystery challenger from yesterday.

Who were they? Why were they on the street? Their mystery profile only heightened his irritation. Previously, the public – or at least, anyone who didn't enter the pub or closely knew someone who did – held no interest in what happened. Now, they couldn't stop talking about it. They wanted to know how Erik had been beaten, and who this person that had beaten them was.

With the current hype about the events of two weeks ago, it was only natural that the mysterious player would return soon. If they had any idea of their own popularity, that is. For all Erik knew, they just felt like playing some more ping pong.

Either way, they came back, and Erik was going to beat them.

Or so he thought.

Ten minutes into the match he had 9 points, and the stranger opposite him had 10. Their hood still concealed their face, but Erik felt it would contain a victory smile.

Still, he had a chance. He only needed one point to get to draw at match point, which would leave them both needing two more points. If he could get them before-

Too late. A ball to the opposite corner of the table than his current side was his downfall. Even if he'd been quick enough to catch the ball, it would have sped off in a random direction from the corner, and he'd never have been able to get it.

Still, the loss of the bet felt like a thousand pounds of bricks in his stomach. The crowd of gossipers and curious pub-dwellers that had surrounded the table stayed silent in shock. None wanted to cheer for the unknown master that had defeated their friend, but at the same time, they wanted to show their amazement and support for the skill of this new player. Despite the inner-confliction, the only sound turned out to be the brief whispers and mutters from shocked speculators.

For a second, Erik only watched as the hooded challenger took his money, as well as their own, from the table. It was only after they left that he placed paddle on the table and left the pub.

Erik had never considered ping pong as anything serious, before this revolutionary player had come about. It was just something fun to do, and he always got pride and money from doing it. Every night at the bar, just a little confidence boost – not that he needed it anymore – and some extra beer cash, nothing serious, but favourable to do. Now, he wished he had trained more. He wished he had taken it seriously. He could have played in international competitions. Perhaps he still could, if he had anyone to play with. Yet, everyone here was mediocre (and he did _not _want them getting good), his superior only appeared on their own whim and would most likely not be up for training, and the one other man in the world Erik knew it would be worth challenging, for training or fun, was in some other country, researching things that bored Erik too easily for him to remember what.

As the wind blew on his face, he decided he needed a drink. Badly. But he could not return to the pub, so his only option was the supermarket a block away - it was open 24 hours a day and sold exactly what he needed and more. He wasn't planning to get drunk; he just wanted a small drink, something to distract him.

Still musing on his defeat, he barely noticed when he reached the store. Neither did he notice that, whilst standing in line with a can of beer in his hand, he was only a step away from the very person who haunted his thoughts.

"Paper or plastic?" The cashier asked, snapping Erik out of his thoughts. Looking up, he had to stifle a gasp.

_It's them!_

They were buying food, mostly. There were a few solid possessions too, but mostly they were purchasing beans, soup, bread and water. He couldn't help but wonder slightly why they needed so many canned goods. It wasn't exactly illegal to purchase lasagnes.

As everything was packed into paper bags, Erik tried to sneak a glance at their face. He wanted to know; who was this mysterious ping pong master who had taken away all of his respect? Gritting his teeth, he wondered if (s)he would _ever _show his/her face. Why, _why _couldn't they just show their identity? If he knew who they were, he could do some digging and find out how they got so good… Then, he could do exactly that and be better than them. Yet, it seemed he would never see their face e-

"Excuse me, but you're not allowed to have hoods up in stores. Safety precautions and all that. Sorry." _Prayer answered. _The cashier was telling them to drop their hood! He would see their face!

Finally, they lowered the hood that concealed their face.

A girl. The first thing he noticed was that it was a girl. She had lengthy brown hair, currently tied up into two bunches with- was that string? Her doe eyes were brown and wide. Her lips were thin, and, looking at her, so was her _everything. _Her eyes were sunken slightly, and her face not as full as it should be. The hoodie she wore, although being small, seemed too big for her. Despite this, and the slight grease to her hair, Erik couldn't help but know she was a very beautiful girl.

He couldn't help but be glad she was purchasing food. She looked like she needed it; she was quite malnourished.

The cashier smiled at her and continued scanning the food. When finally finished, she handed him some sort of club card. He scanned it, and Erik wondered if it'd tell him her name. His question was answered a second later.

"Thank you, Ms… Daaé!" The cashier had to check the screen again, but he addressed her kindly, handing her some of the bags. "Would you like some help carrying all of this?" He smiled at her nicely. Erik felt almost like an intruder, simply listening to the other's conversation, but continued to listen anyway.

"Um… I think I'll be fine…" She mumbled, but a second later, she smiled back, albeit nervously. Erik felt his breathe be taken away. She really _was _beautiful, especially when she smiled.

Shaking himself from the reverie, he watched as 'Ms Daaé' attempted to carry all the bags. He wanted to offer to help, but he had a feeling he'd only be denied upon offering.

The cashier frowned, as Erik did, as she struggled.

"Are you sure you don't want some help?"

Ms Daaé looked up, surprised, seemingly, at the question. "No, I'm good. But- er- do you think you could guard these bags if I took two trips to carry them?" She asked shyly.

"Of course I could." He replied kindly. "I'll see you soon, Ms Daaé."

"Christine." She said, seemingly without thinking. The cashier nodded, and she grabbed three of the bags and began to walk away. Paying quickly for the beer he no longer desired, he walked after her.

He wasn't following her; the bar was this way. Or so he told himself.

About seven steps outside of the store, she stopped dead in her tracks, as though she'd forgotten or seen something important. For a second, Erik was afraid he'd been caught, but then he heard her mumble something.

"Did I just tell that cashier my name?"

Stifling a laugh, Erik stayed silent and still behind her, waiting for her to move to. A few seconds later she did, shaking her head lightly.

He followed her many streets down, and he sensed she was starting to get suspicious of the man that had followed her all the way from the food restaurant. Therefore, to his own regret, he waited until she was turning a corner and chose to continued straight onwards, heading towards the bar.

As he entered the pub – who's mumbling he was now effectively ignoring – he couldn't help but feel that something inside of him had shifted.

***~(^-^)~* A/N: I have this whole thing planned out :) Things are gonna get dramatic in about two chapters ^-^ Anyway, remember: Please review so I know I should keep uploading, and do you want me to actually have A/N's like this, or should I limit them? See ya soon! *~(^-^)~***


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